


A little vision (of the start and the end)

by MorganBartonRomanoff



Series: Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, Flashbacks, I Consider This One of My Best, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, Natasha Romanov Backstory, Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Natasha Romanov-centric, Prompt Fic, Red Room (Marvel), Vision loss, temporarily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganBartonRomanoff/pseuds/MorganBartonRomanoff
Summary: She hadn’t seen the flash grenade coming. Then she couldn’t see anything at all.She's never felt pain like this, never seen brightness like this. Her sub-conscience digs up the most similar experiences she's lived through. They're surprisingly alike, and then they're extremely different.Part Five of my Natasha Romanov Bingo; Square filled - Vision Loss
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653973
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33
Collections: Natasha Bingo





	A little vision (of the start and the end)

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks to my friend Tea for beta reading.
> 
> Title from Florence + The Machine's _Breath of life_
> 
> Written for the Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020 by [natasharomanovbingo](https://natasharomanovbingo.tumblr.com).

She hadn’t seen the flash grenade coming. Then she couldn’t see anything at all.

There was searing pain behind her eyes, the kind that cut off the air in your lungs and halted your heart in your chest. It was pain, worse than any gunshot wound she’d ever gotten, as bad as torture. It was pain and light and it mixed in an overwhelming wave of agony.

There was searing pain behind her eyes, and there was blinding white everywhere, and then there was nothing.

What felt like a second, like ages, like barely a moment and eternity mixed together, dragged out for too long. Her ears were ringing, maybe. They were ringing but she couldn’t hear anything over the _pain_.

It took her just a second, or maybe ages, to surrender to it, to the darkness that enveloped her like the soft blankets in her bedroom, like the warmest hug she’d ever gotten, from a feminine silhouette, faded in the depths of her memory, like her partner’s strong arms after a nightmare.

Darkness came, and nothing else followed.

* * *

There are shadows dancing across the walls at the song of flames. She is curled up in a ball, a soft polar bear clutched in her tiny fists. There are screams, and yells, strange voices invading her home. She is too afraid to cry, too afraid she’s going to be discovered, too afraid to make a sound. She hears her mother cry out, close by, or maybe far away.

It is too hot in her room, but she cannot move. It’s hard to breathe; her eyes water and her throat constricts. She manages to suppress a coughing fit once, paralysed with fear. Panic has its clutches wrapped around her small body.

She gives in and coughs. The spasms keep coming and coming, and there is no air in her lungs.

They find her.

The last thing she sees of her home are the flames licking at every wall, orange and yellow and bright and destructive.

* * *

She has been there for ten years when they decide she should be trained to be more resilient.

She doesn’t protest. Objections are frowned upon. They are met with punishment.

She is strapped into a chair, belts wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles, around the top of her head. She has experienced pain before. Cuts during practice, bruised and cracked ribs, concussions. She’s taken a bullet. She’s broken her own arm in order to learn to use the other one as efficiently.

Pain has been a familiar companion throughout the past ten years.

She thinks she is prepared when they bring the first instrument to her skin.

She finds out she is not.

She manages to endure it for half an hour, though it seems like hours. Darkness envelops her when she surrenders to pain.

* * *

This place is strange. She hasn’t been there long, but it’s entirely different from what she’s used to. It’s loud and it has windows, sunlight streams in huge waves. Everyone is doing their best to be friendly. Regardless, she sees the caution behind their forced smiles. Perhaps, it is not so different after all. She still isn’t trusted.

She sees him approaching, a grin stretching at his mouth; she can’t help but notice the edge in his eyes. They flicker around him, assessing his surroundings. He is not at ease there, just like her.

They leave the hallway. He takes her to a training room. Oddly, it’s empty. She’s almost certain he has something to do with it, and so she doesn’t let herself lose some of the tension gathered in her shoulders, despite their newfound privacy.

She can’t let herself trust anyone. It’s a lesson she has learned early on, the hard way.

They spar. Jumps and kicks, punches and swipes, jabs. He holds back. She doesn’t. She has him pinned down in three minutes. He stops pulling his punches.

The fluorescent lights above them glow in burning white.

Many times after that, she finds herself lying on her back, trying to catch her breath, eyes glued to the light until they hurt. Or until an arms is stretched out towards her.

* * *

She has just returned. He is asleep. His necklace rests against her collarbones. She is pressed against the thick dark curtain, dressed in nothing but the thin silver chain around her neck and the cascading fire of her hair.

She had realized she’d needed these past five months. She’d needed clarity, closure. She had spent half of that time looking for her childhood home, and the other half bringing down as many of them as she could find, base after base. She’d put everything else in the background, and left only the desperate need for revenge – for justice, and the bloodlust drilled into her since childhood.

She had turned their own weapon, herself, against them.

Despite her continuous efforts, not everything she’d left in the background had stayed there. Through the darkness of her thoughts, around the rage over her past, slivers of him snuck up on her. She fought them, fought the gentle smiles and careful touches, fought the memory of his arms engulfing her in a hug, fought the sound of his laugh. She fought until he became overwhelming, until he incinerated all darkness from her head and her soul and her heart, until she realised he was something more than just the first friend in her life.

She hadn’t thought twice when she returned home. Home – not the country, not the city, not the apartment. Home is him, and she has never had a home since that infernal night.

She stares off above the rooftops, where the early sun barely peeks out, bloody red and fiery orange. The city below her is already awake.

She hears him approach, lets him wrap his arms around her. She presses her back to him, and they both look at the sun.

* * *

She couldn’t open her eyes. She was awake, but she could not move her lids. There was a loud pounding behind her brow, and a screeching sound coming from somewhere in the room. Had she been taken?

She tensed, shifted. There were no restraints. She was on a bed.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and a hand latched onto hers. She knew his calluses, knew the roughness of his palms. His voice echoed throughout her skull with a ring, distorting the words into intangible sounds.

He turned her palm and started tapping it with his finger in Morse.

 _Flash_. Yes, she remembered. It had taken her by surprise. A rookie mistake.

“My eyes?” she croaked. Her own voice grated on her ears.

_Will be fine. Rest._

She reached for the wrappings around her head, but he stopped her. He took both of her hands in his and kissed them. She felt a weight settle on her thigh and buried her fingers in his hair.

Yes. Rest.

Everything else could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think! Kudos and comments fill my heart with joy! You can also check out my other works ;)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ohwriteiforgot](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com)


End file.
